


Brave Sir Kirschstein

by pengiesama



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Humor, M/M, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2664377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pengiesama/pseuds/pengiesama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sir Kirschstein braves a terrifying mission to rescue his fair sir lord from his smoking-hot doppelganger, with a little help from another legendary hero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brave Sir Kirschstein

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Jearmin Week on Tumblr; prompt "lucid dream".

Jean mopped his brow with a silken embroidered handkerchief, and pressed his lips to the fabric. A favor from his lord, a treasure, a reminder of his mission. And that mission, Jean thought to himself, was drawing ever closer to completion. Jean grit his teeth in determination, and continued to climb the rope leading him to the window of the tower where his fair lord was imprisoned.

“I’M HERE—I GOT YOUR—” Jean flailed one armored leg up, hooking it over the window’s edge. His hands struggled for purchase, grasped the red velvet curtains, tore them from their hangings. He dangled from the tower window for one terrifying, dizzying moment, before heaving a breath and hauling himself in by the rope.

His fair lord Armin gasped and whirled around in a swirl of blue silks, the color of his eyes, shimmering with tears, with terror, but yes—also with hope, and love, hope and love now that the brave Sir Kirschstein had arrived.

“Sir Kirschstein!” Lord Armin gasped again, and whirled around again, his golden locks shimmering in the low candlelight. “Watch out!”

Jean had not time to draw his sword before the source of his fair lord’s distress emerged from the shadows. Lord Armin gasped, and whirled around several times more until he hit the bed, and swooned onto it. His fair lord—no, not his fair lord, this foul doppelganger wearing the face of beauty itself—smirked at him wickedly, and set a single finger to his full, rosy lips in mocking thought.

“Good evening, Sir knight,” the doppelganger purred. His blood red cloak slithered from his shoulders, revealing a slim, flawless figure clad in leather of the darkest black. “I am the darkness of your beloved’s heart made manifest. Would you care to discuss Nietzsche and the nature of morality over red, red wine? I received a fine cask from all the governments everywhere while I’ve been a quadruple double agent and manipulating all of them for my dark plans.”

Lord Armin gasped and whirled around on the bed in protest. The wild flailing of his limbs made his bodice spring open, revealing pale white skin and fine collarbones. The doppelganger pouted, and strutted over to the bed, swinging his hips as if to hypnotize Jean with his ass. Jean grimaced, his grip tightening on his sword. But he would not be seduced, not by this devious dark creature with a booty he could bounce quarters off of.

The doppelganger leaned in to grasp Lord Armin’s delicate chin with long, slender fingers. He tutted as he brushed the tears from Lord Armin’s noble cheeks (Jean seethed with rage at sight of the touch), and held him still with one hand to his bare shoulder as Lord Armin attempted to whirl around once more.

“Now, now,” the doppelganger murmured, trailing a fingertip from Lord Armin’s lips to his neck, from his neck to the undone threads of his bodice. “I wouldn’t mind sharing with myself, of course…”

“Then mind if I cut in?” boomed a heroic voice from outside. A mighty punch exploded the brick wall into fine powder, and a statuesque figure shone through the sunlight and dust.

“ _You_ ,” hissed the doppelganger, flicking his hair back irritably.

“Yes. It’s me.”  The figure stepped forward, his footsteps rumbling as he went. “Buff Armin.”

Buff Armin’s long, shimmering hair rippled in the wind. Lord Armin whirled around with renewed force, and wound up tumbling off the bed in a heap.

“Your plans stop here, Dark Armin,” Buff Armin flexed accusingly.

Dark Armin flipped his hair and smoldered deviously. “ _No_ ,” he purred. “They’ve only just begun…”

As Dark Armin’s Titan army roared outside, Buff Armin set a warm, firm hand to Jean’s shoulder.

“Are you ready to save the galaxy, Jean?” he asked.

Jean unsheathed his sword, and pointed it to the sunrise. Lord Armin and Dark Armin clung to his legs, as if attracted by magnets.

“No,” Jean said. “I’m ready to save the universe.”

 

* * *

 

“He gonna be okay?”

Jean gurgled on the forest floor, drool and snot soaking his clothes. Hanji pried open one eyelid, pulled at his tongue, and after a moment’s deliberation, nodded with a perky smile.

“Yeah, probably! Hell of a case of the runs soon, though. That’s what you get when you ignore those survival training classes and eat the wrong mushrooms. Just prop him up and make sure he doesn’t slobber himself to death for now; he’ll wake up in a bit.”

Hanji rocketed off to treetops unknown, and Eren and Armin awkwardly tried to maneuver Jean against a tree.

“…thanks, Buff Armin…” murmured Jean.

Armin tilted his head, confused. “…you’re welcome?”


End file.
